


Intimate

by Lefaym



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, First Time, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have both dreamed of this -- and that is what gives them pause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the extensive reblogging of [this gifset](http://missfisherobsessed.tumblr.com/post/128210137379/i-see-the-neck-touchi-reblog-and-i-still-feel) over the course of the past week: there is only so much eyesex a woman can take before she is required to write some PWP to relieve the tension.

As they ascend the stairwell to her boudoir he is passionate, almost unrestrained. Jack presses his mouth to hers; he welcomes her tongue and bruises her eager lips with his own. His fingers skim over her breasts, teasing her through the light fabric of her blouse. When they reach the landing, he presses her against the wall, and it takes all of Phryne’s resolve to lead him onwards, instead of having her way with him right there.

But they have been interrupted too many times already; Phryne will not allow anything to come between them now.

When her bedroom door shuts behind them, however, Jack grows still. He looks at her as though trying to record every detail in his mind. Desire is heavy in his eyes, but his only movement is the rise and fall of his chest beneath his shirt.

“Jack?” she asks, her voice soft. She extends a hand to pull him in, but he catches it, his fingers warm against her palm.

He raises his free hand to her face; he runs his knuckles along the line of her jaw and caresses her neck. He traces the neckline of her blouse and Phryne sighs into his touch.

“I’ve imagined this a thousand times,” he confesses. “I’ve wanted…”

All at once she understands his sudden reticence: it is one thing for him to imagine a new intimacy in the privacy of his mind, but it is quite another to be faced with the reality at last.

“I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of your hands on my skin,” Phryne tells him.

His breath catches. “Show me,” he says. “What have you dreamed of, Miss Fisher?”

Phryne smiles. She takes his hand so that it rests in front of hers and brings it to the waistband of her trousers. She loosens her belt, and guides him further, into her drawers, and further still until the length of his palm rests against the warm folds of her sex. Without prompting, his first two fingers curl in towards her centre and the heel of his palm presses against the lower part of her _mons Venus_.

A soft moan escapes her lips, and she wonders how much her eyes reveal to him right now. 

“Phryne,” he says, and the sound of her name on his lips pierces to her core.

If she hadn’t dreamed of this so many times, she thinks she might run away from it. But she _has_ dreamed of it, of him, and right now he is everything. This time, when she pulls his face in towards hers, he does not stay her hand.


End file.
